


Wayward

by Naemi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drama, Dubious Consent, F/M, M/M, Promiscuity, Public Sex, Restraints, Striking with implements, Submission, discomfort during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't healthy, but it was the kind of game Isaac felt comfortable playing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayward

**Author's Note:**

> [Very roughly following some events from season 2 through season 3b.]

 

Keeping the sass in check was easier said than done. Everything about being on his hands and knees on the dirty bathroom floor was worth a dozen cheeky comments, but Isaac clenched his jaw, determined not to ruin this. The booming bass that seeped in through the barricaded door dictated the rhythm for the two fingers that worked his ass open. With only spit for lube, it wasn't exactly comfortable, but Isaac didn't give a fuck.

He kept himself steady with sweaty palms, but refrained from canting his hips to create a better angle. No way he'd show Jackson how much he wanted this. It was a lot easier pretending to be a victim than to acknowledge his own need. So much more interesting, too, to see how Jackson enjoyed taking advantage of his seemingly helpless prey.

The grip in Isaac's hair was relentless. Blunt nails dug into his scalp, and although they didn't leave bruises—none that wouldn't heal instantaneously—it still hurt. And with his head tilted back hard enough for his vertebrae to scream in protest, breathing was a difficult task, all the more so since his throat was still sore from the unfamiliar use it had been put to mere minutes ago.

A snicker rolled over Isaac's lips at the memory of how Jackson had grunted and cussed. Isaac had enjoyed every second of the sloppy mouth-fuck, but he'd kept to his own secret script, the one that demanded flailing and tears and hoarse pleas to stop whenever he could speak.

It was hilarious.

“What's so funny, bitch?”

“No-nothing. Please, Jackson . . . please, you're hurting me . . .”

So fucking hilarious.

“You little cunt . . . you deserve every bit of it.”

And Isaac took every bit of it. When Jackson would leave him, fucked raw and covered in cum, he'd close his eyes and jerk off to the satisfying thought that someone wanted him badly enough to force himself upon him repeatedly.

It wasn't healthy, but it was the kind of game Isaac felt comfortable playing. Deep inside he knew that Jackson knew, and that they played by the same, unspoken rules.

And when Jackson went to London, he left Isaac almost heartbroken.

~ ~ ~

Hushed moans filled the loft, soft and rhythmical like waves rolling ashore. The moon shining in through the windows—a pale, waxing moon—cast just enough light to bathe Isaac's contours in a silver glow that reflected in the sweat pearling down his flank, covering his collarbone, gluing his curls to his temples.

When Derek sat back, the loss of contact made Isaac whine softly.

“It's okay,” Derek whispered. “I want to see how beautiful you are,” and at that, Isaac purred and flashed a smile.

A coil of freshly oiled leather bound the boy's wrists together, snaked down his outstretched arms and then around his neck where they were just tight enough to discourage Isaac from moving his head too much without choking him. From there, the two ends crisscrossed twice along their way down Isaac's body, spiraling down from his groin to his ankles.

It was more artistic than anything, but what mattered for Isaac was that the heavily earthy scent and the smoothness of the leather surrounded him completely, intoxicating his senses.

He spread his legs as wide as he could, relishing the way the restraints cut into his skin.

“Take me,” Isaac whispered. “If you like what you see . . . take it. It's all yours.”

And Derek did.

He fucked Isaac nice and slow, and controlled the boy's every move with a gentle tug on the leather here or there. Even though it was somewhat of a farce, the whole routine never failed to satisfy them both.

~ ~ ~

Scott was sweet and loving, and everything Isaac had never known before. Everything Isaac couldn't understand.

His kisses were never demanding, and neither were his touches. Isaac longed for his caress as much as he despised it. Something deep inside him yearned for that sweetness, yet at the same time, he never felt free, could never let go. Kindness apparently didn't suit him.

He didn't oppose anything Scott wanted, but there wasn't much to oppose, anyway. The sex was bland, and the only reason Isaac kept doing it was because it paid the rent. Judging by the countless hours spent cuddling, Scott was happy, at least.

Not that Isaac was unhappy, but . . . he missed the game. The thrill of the chase.

He felt guilty for every time he moaned Derek's name instead of Scott's, but just as he hoped, it eventually triggered True Alpha behavior.

Isaac wore the scarves with pride, for they covered bite marks that refused to heal quickly.

~ ~ ~

Running away with Allison, if only for a day, was the greatest adventure of Isaac's life. She was so much sunshine and rainbows that his heart overflowed with happiness. It was weird, and maybe a little unsettling, that she, of all people, would have that effect on him, but he never questioned it.

The radio blared feel-good music all the way to Nevada, and they sang loudly and out of tune until their throats hurt. They couldn't gamble, drink, or get married, but it didn't matter. Vegas had more to offer than that.

Allison got a manicure. Isaac got a new leather jacket. After that, the two of them tried to sneak in the Shark Reef Aquarium, but were caught in the act and guided out by not-so-friendly-looking security guys. They still had a blast all together.

They crashed in the car late that night, feeling drunk from all the bright lights and weird people and silly things they'd done all day. It was uncomfortable and way too hot, but they managed to curl up together. Isaac really wanted to kiss her, just because she had shown him a life so different than his own. Maybe also because she smelled really nice, despite the sweat and the scents of the city clinging to her skin.

He didn't. Not that night.

When they first kissed—when they first had sex—it was unlike anything he'd imagined. Allison was wonderful (how could she ever not be) and addictive, and very, very vocal about what she wanted, how and when.

Isaac really kind of loved her for a while.

~ ~ ~

“I'm sorry,” Isaac said feebly, but the belt still came down on his naked ass, making him hiss and squirm. “Please . . . I'll be a good boy. I promise. I'm sorry.”

“Ten more. Count.”

Isaac did with a hoarse voice. His skin felt raw when they reached their goal, but he couldn't stop his mouth from spilling: “More. I need more.”

“It's enough,” Chris said sternly, but Isaac shook his head.

“It's never enough. You know I deserve it. You know what I did to Allison.”

“Stop it, Isaac.”

“I killed her. I fucking killed her! Don't tell me I don't deserve to suffer for that! Don't tell me you don't want to—”

The belt kept swooshing down even after Isaac lost count, even after his skin broke, even after he came.

“Thank you,” he uttered over and over again, knowing that Chris only acquiesced his wish because he felt guilty himself.

~ ~ ~

Isaac loved to watch the waves roll ashore; the steady cadence gave him a peace of mind. The wind tousled his too-long hair. His curls were a wild mess, thanks to the humidity, but Isaac didn't mind this new look; it reflected his past, in a way. Untamed. Out of control. A small part of him wanted that life back.

He did not ask, “How did you find me?” or, “Why did you look for me at all?” Instead, he produced a lopsided smirk before he turned to face the ocean again. The afternoon sun hung low, bathing the water in a diamond glow: thousands of dancing reflections, each of them alive and telling a different story.

“It's a good time of year to visit,” Isaac said casually. “Not too hot, but still lovely. Nothing like California, though.”

Scott shrugged. “I don't care for the weather.”

“A lot of things are nice here.”

“Nothing is really nice without you, you know?”

Isaac didn't reply, and Scott didn't push him. They sat side by side in a silence that was broken by the sea and everything that belonged to it. When Isaac rose, hours later, the sounds of day had long been replaced by the hushed murmurs of night.

“You can't stay,” he said, avoiding eye contact and voicing any of the one million thoughts that swarmed his head and fed on his sanity.

Despite the announcement, Scott refused to leave.

It should have been easy to tell the truth when they ran together under the full moon. It should have been even easier after they made love on the beach. But the words stuck in Isaac's throat, brimmed his eyes with bitter tears that he allowed Scott to see, but not to dry.

“You can't fix what's meant to be broken,” he said. “And I don't want you to waste your time trying.”

“See . . . I like you just the way you are. Besides, I'm on vacation, not a mission.”

“Your whole life is a mission.”

Scott trailed his fingertips along Isaac's jawline and down the side of his neck by way of reply.

Somehow, this little gesture answered all of Isaac's questions.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Rounds of Kink Summer Heat Mini Round 2014, but finished too late, eep. Incorporating the prompts _collide, remedy, misnomer, teal_ and the kinks _conflicts and challenges, beloved enemies, restraints, getaways_ and _striking with implements_. (If you squint, you'll find them all, I promise.)
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful **Moit** , who also made sure that all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


End file.
